Green Goo
by teecrushfic
Summary: A slight incident in Potions leads to a certain wizarding hero being covered in ... green goo. Oddly enough, this leads to the discovery of an unexpected fetish, an even more unexpected attraction and a healthy respect for oranime root.


Green Goo

The potions experiment had not gone well.

In fact, it could reasonably be said that it had gone very badly indeed; Harry considered himself fortunate to only have green hair at this point…or mostly green. That flying goo had been some nasty shit and he was glad he'd had the foresight to turn his back just after adding the last dubious ingredient. _Oranime _root…who the hell had ever heard of THAT?

Snape, of course, had been no help at all – Harry was fairly sure that the Potions Master had barely been able to contain his amusement at the sight of his least favored pupil covered in green goo that was nearly – if not completely – impossible to get off his person. Harry had never actually seen Snape laugh, but it stood to reason that he could…just chose not to. Ever.

The rest of the class had, predictably, mocked him mercilessly; of course, it was his luck to have mostly Slytherins in his class this term. Malfoy, in particular had looked like he might bust a gut laughing. Harry hadn't bothered to even flip him off over it; a hex on top of his current issue seemed like something he didn't wish to invite onto himself.

He had stoically ignored the giggles and head shakes that had accompanied his long trek back to Gryffindor Tower, reasoning that it was better to be laughed at then whispered about and feared. But not **much** better.

Hermione looked up when he entered the Common Room and gaped at him for a good minute, before bursting into laughter, rocking on the couch. "Could you have at least gone for scarlet instead of puke green?"

He sighed. "It's not like I had a choice of colors…and besides, it's not **that** bad." She snorted. "Is it?"

"You need to go look at yourself and then come back here and ask me again."

In the loo, he stared at himself; it WAS puke green, and covered him from nearly head to toe, although it seemed to be most concentrated in his hair. Figures; like that particular part of him wasn't enough of a pain in the arse as it was. Fuck.

He didn't bother changing out of his robes; the goo had dried to a consistency that was suspiciously like ANOTHER substance that sometimes wound up on his clothing – boxers, mostly – and wasn't coming off any time soon. He made few half-hearted attempts to disgorge the goo…but no luck.

He went back downstairs and endured more lame attempts at witticisms from the rest of his house before sitting down next to Hermione and waiting till she looked up and snickered. "So how do I get this off?"

She reached for her Potions text and shook her head. "I don't know if it will COME off, Harry…the ingredients are stubborn and there's perhaps three spells that might work on this, out of thousands."

"Well, Scourgify is NOT one of them…I already tried that one."

"Then that's one down…here, let me try these others."

She picked up her wand and proceeded to try the two other charms and spells – turning in desperation to some more obscure ones afterwards – but the goo wasn't moving. She sighed and lowered her wand. "I'm sorry, love…I think you might be out of luck."

"Hermione, I can't go around like this; it's too weird, even for me."

"Well, the robes are a total loss, and none stuck to your skin, oddly enough. My advice is to go take a long soak in a tub and see if maybe that stuff softens enough to wash out of your hair."

"Where am I gonna find a tub?"

"Take my key to the prefect's bathroom and use the bathtub there…soak for an hour, relax, and just periodically see if you can shampoo any of that stuff out."

"What if it doesn't come out?"

She shrugged. "Then you can say it ain't easy being green."

"That's comforting, Hermione, thanks." He sighed and took the key from her, ascending the stairs and gathering his shower items. He tossed the robes in the bin; thank God he had three other sets as shopping for clothing was about 161st on his list of fun things to do. Ugh.

He let himself into the prefect's bathroom, looking around cautiously for Myrtle – he really hoped she was hanging out in the dungeon sewers today because ghostly hair humor was not his idea of a good time at the moment.

He sank down in the hot water, resting his head on the lip of the enormous marble tub, occasionally submerging himself completely. The first shampoo did exactly nothing, from what he could see of his reflection in the water. The second one, astoundingly enough, ALSO did nothing.

He was shaking himself off from the third attempt when an all too familiar, lazy, over-privileged drawl made him jump. "I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings Potter… but you're wasting your time."

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Harry gathered all the many bubbles to him in a vain attempt to hide…what?

"I should be asking YOU that question, but it's fairly obvious that Granger gave you her key, else you'd have been standing in the showers for the last hour, draining the castle of hot water, and accomplishing precisely nothing." The voice was not anywhere near as nasty as usual; in fact it sounded nothing more than amused. Harry was instantly on his guard. "Maybe I'm just taking a relaxing bath."

"Maybe, but I rather think you're trying to get that shit out of your hair; it's not gonna happen, just so you know." Malfoy was now in full view, dressed in a black silk robe and looking like he was about to laugh any second.

"Why is that?"

"Because you dolt, the _oranime_ root is forever; it's permanent. Anything it affixes itself to is going to bear its color for the duration. It won't fade, crumble or wash out; you're stuck with it."

Harry narrowed his eyes and Draco shook his head. "I'm not lying to you, Potter…I mean, I could and you'd never know since you're a hopeless dunce in Potions, but there seems to be no point in doing so when the reality of the situation is this funny."

To punctuate his thought, he snorted and then laughed, looking Harry over, still dripping rather heavily.

"So what the hell am I gonna do?"

"About the hair? Only one thing you can do; chop it all off." The other boy leaned against a post and smirked.

"Great…I had a feeling that was what you were gonna say." Harry shoved it off his forehead and grimaced at the stickiness between his fingers.

"Don't look so downcast Potter…its not like you don't _need _a haircut - perpetually in fact."

"Spare me the commentary on my appearance, would you?" Harry reached for the towel lying on top of his bathrobe and starting to exit the tub…then realized that Draco was still watching him, and the look in his eyes had become quite different.

"A little privacy, please?"

Draco rolled his eyes and turned around while Harry hastily dried himself off and slipped on his robe. Hearing the swish of the material, he turned back to Harry. "Green, while a noble color, really is not an overall look for you."

"I get the sentiment, Malfoy; I look like hell and you like to remind me of the fact; give it a bloody rest, all right?"

"I didn't say you looked like hell, just that vomit-green is not your friend." He folded his arms casually and nodded towards Harry's head. "Who are you going to coerce into cutting all that gunk off for you?"

He was busy knotting his robe. "I don't know…I can do it myself I guess; not like it's that hard."

"Dear God, Potter…you want to deliberately make a bad thing worse?"

"Why the fuck do you care what I look like, Malfoy? I'd think you'd be delighted if I look dorkier than usual…gives you more opportunity to make snide comments." Harry was glaring at him, and Draco raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I don't much care how you look, but in the interest of your own self image, I was going to offer to do it for you."

Harry stared at him in shock, then snorted derisively. "You're completely delusional if you think I'd possibly let you near me with sharp objects…and tell me why the hell I'd let you anywhere near me regardless? You think I'm that stupid?" He shook his wet and hopelessly sticky head. "Wait, don't answer that."

"I…don't think you're stupid. Clueless, yes, stupid, no. And I offered because I _could_ do it, and you'd look good when I was done." The tone of the blonde's voice was unlike any that Harry had heard from him before…he recognized the feel of it but couldn't quite believe that it was coming from Malfoy. He gave the other a hard look and was honestly amazed to see nothing but sincerity written on Draco's face as well. He took a breath and exhaled, keeping his gaze steadily on Draco, but the other's expression didn't change.

He weighed his options – the stuff wasn't coming out, he would most likely fuck it up royally – beyond the aid of magic – if he did it himself - and if he got one of the girls to do it, he'd have to listen to annoying chatter and gossip, not to mention giggling. At least with Malfoy, there'd be no casual conversation, since they had nothing to say to each other.

Damn…he really had little choice; he couldn't go around like this. He sighed, went to run his hand through his hair and was stopped by a rather large chunk of goo. To his credit, Malfoy didn't snicker…much.

"Well…uhm, I guess you could. It's not like this day could get much weirder than it's been already." It wasn't warmest reception Draco'd ever gotten, but it was better than nothing. "But if you deliberately fuck it up, I **will** kick your arse."

"Potter, seriously, what could I possibly do to make it worse?" Draco sighed and waved him over to the nearest bench. "Sit down and just relax, ok?"

"Sitting down is easy – the relaxing is asking a whole lot of me," Harry grumbled, mostly to cover his nervousness. He didn't want to look like a coward in front of the other, but he was decidedly uneasy. In anyone else's hands, it would be a relatively simple endeavor…in Draco Malfoy's hands the possibilities of the kinds of shit he could pull was endless. He shifted on his seat.

He felt the other boy's hand on his shoulder. "I'm not gonna do anything nasty to you, Potter – I promise." He felt the towel being rubbed over his head with surprising gentleness. "You trust me?"

"Fuck no!"

Draco almost laughed. "Fair enough…how about in this case at least?"

"Still no, but I'm assuming that since you always look hot that you have _some _idea of what you're doing." Harry didn't think about the words before they came out of his mouth, and had he turned at that moment, he would have seen the look of absolute shock that crossed the Slytherin's face…then the smile. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Harry realized then what he'd said, and felt the blush creep up his neck. "Yeah, well, don't get carried away."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The substance was tacky from being wet and if possible, almost gooier now than when it had first hit Potter; Draco wrinkled his nose as he tried to separate strands of thick black hair and tried to ignore the fact that he was actually touching Harry, in a far more intimate way than he had ever dared hope he would be able to. He pondered for a moment, then with a muttered spell, he conjured a pair of Muggle clippers to go along with the scissors he'd just made appear. "Uh, Potter…this stuff is like glue, so I'm gonna have to cut it all off first with scissors and then even it up with these." He showed them to Harry, who took a deep breath and tried not to panic. "That's gonna be a lot of hair gone."

"It will be, yes…but it's not like you don't have tons to spare. You're going to look fine; you have my word."

Harry didn't feel especially comforted, and it was evidenced in his posture. Draco set the clippers down and said "drop the robe."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to get naked Potter, but slide the robe down around your waist."

Harry turned and looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just shut up and do it, ok?"

Harry stared at him a moment more, then turned around and loosening the ties, slid the robe down around his shoulders; a moment later, he felt strong hands on his back, moving upwards to the shoulders and neck, rubbing and prodding, and eliciting a sigh from him. "Feel good?"

"Yes…especially right…ahh. There."

The hands moved over him for a few minutes longer until he felt he could probably curl up like a cat and go to sleep for a few hours, days, maybe a month or two. Malfoy had magic fingers…who would have imagined?

"Are you ready now?"

"Mmmhmm," was all he could manage without breaking the feeling of calm.

He felt a series of gentle tugs and heard the sounds of blades opening and closing…then saw a couple of thick locks of black hair made sticky with goo fall to the floor and swallowed hard.

"Are you particularly attached to this mop?" Draco figured he'd make conversation while he worked and take Harry's mind off things. "Not nearly as attached as you are to yours, but it's still a little disconcerting to see huge chunks of it roll off you; especially when you weren't planning on it, and oh, your eternal rival is wielding the scissors."

Draco snorted. "I guess I can understand that. As for my own, I could frankly care less what I look like; it's just a mask. Like the rest of me," he added, almost as an afterthought. God knows why he said that out loud to Potter, but since they were alone and he had the upper hand…technically at least…he felt like he could say things he normally might not. Odd. He decided he would think about that later.

"Oh right…if this were YOU, and I was standing there chopping _your_ hair off, you'd be having a fucking fit."

"Only because most likely you, unless you have skills I'm unaware of, wouldn't have a clue as to what you'd be doing…whereas I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Don't tell me; you spend your off hours coiffing all of Slytherin House…if so, I gotta tell you; Crabbe and Goyle_ still_ look like the Goon Squad."

"Crabbe and Goyle ARE the Goon Squad, Potter."

Harry squirmed a bit. "So you really don't care what you look like?" This was interesting.

"Not really…my parents care, and our level of society cares, and my house cares, but me? No."

"So if green goo splattered you from head to toe and your worst rival was the only one to offer to fix you up, you wouldn't be apprehensive?"

Draco had to laugh. "Hell no, I'd be horrified…you're handling this much better than I would!"

Harry had to smirk, despite a particularly large section of hair sliding down his arm. "This is a decidedly circular conversation."

"Yes, but the first one we've ever had that didn't involve a hex or two."

Harry almost nodded but Draco put his hand on his neck. "Don't jerk your head around, ok?"

"Sorry."

There was silence after that, except for the sound of the blades cutting away; Harry had stopped looking down at the growing pile of hair on the floor and just allowed his brain to register the fact that hands were moving firmly over his head and that it actually felt kind of…good. Even if they were Malfoy's, and even if he had no idea what he was going to wind up looking like. "Hell of a time to start caring about _that_, Potter," he thought to himself with a wry smile.

Several minutes later, Draco put down the scissors and sighed. "Ok, that's all of it, or most all of it…no, put your hands _down_ because this is in no way indicative of how it will look or feel later and you'll just panic. Hands at your sides or wherever else you want, except up here."

"You're bossy, you know that?" Harry grumbled, but linked his fingers in his lap.

"Yes. You need to put your head down a little now; I'm going to start at the bottom with these and work upwards."

"Ok." Harry's voice was small, and Draco put his hand back on his neck for a brief moment…for comfort or just to touch more, he wasn't sure. "Its going to be fine Potter…I promised it would."

He eyed the remaining hair and turned on the clippers, starting low on Harry's neck and moving them upwards, clipping the uneven patches of hair into a smooth path, careful that no green remained. He paused for a moment before the next pass, waiting for a reaction, but there was none; Harry was quiet, so he made a second pass, a third and fourth. Still no reaction…until he happened to move to the right side to start there, and noticed that Harry's hands were clenched. "Are you ok, Potter?"

"Yeah, I'm…fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah…it just feels kind of cool, actually." He sounded both surprised and… god, was that a tinge of arousal in his tone? Or was that his imagination wishing out loud again?

"Does it?"

"Uh, yeah." That was definitely _something_…and Potter shifted a little on the bench.

"I've never had them used on me, so I'll take your word for it. Still nervous?"

"I guess it's too late for that, so no…whatever's done is done anyway. You should try them, it's…interesting."

"I'll keep that in mind. It's working out well, though- no green."

Harry nodded and shifted again. "I know the bench is hard…I'll be done soon."

"It's not the bench and you don't have to hurry or anything – just take your time and don't make me look completely certifiable."

"I was thinking just partially certifiable…you ok with that?"

"Oh that, well…Harry's lip curled and he almost smiled. "I do partially certifiable pretty well, I'm told."

Draco snickered and put his left hand lightly on top of Harry's head. "Hold still, I have both sides and the top left to do."

Potter nodded slightly, and Draco proceeded to clip the hair on the right side of his head, brushing away the remnants of green ends, then moved to the left side and did the same. Potter was now biting his lip and Draco could swear he was pressing down on his groin, but the robe made it hard to be sure. He knew that he, himself was hard, and was glad he was basically behind Harry…until he realized that soon he'd have to be in front of him to do the top. Shit.

He paused for a moment, willing himself down. When he spoke, Harry's voice was a little husky. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just, uh, flexing my fingers. Those things are heavy."

"Oh." Harry shifted and started to put his hand up to feel, but Draco caught his wrist. "Down, I said, till you're done."

"But I want to know what it feels like!"

"You will, Potter, Jesus…trust me, you'll be living with this for a while; it'll take a bit for the mop to grow back out; if you even decide to let it, that is. Maybe you'll like it and keep it."

"Maybe; I don't care much what I look like, so whatever happens, happens."

"Why is that?"

"Huh?"

"Why don't you care if you look good or not?"

"I kind of have other things on my mind than if my hair behaves in the morning or not, Malfoy…death, destruction, OWLS, that sort of thing."

"You need someone to take care of you, then." Draco tried to keep his voice neutral.

"I can take care of myself. Are you going to finish this or leave me with a vomit-green Mohawk?"

"Don't be so bloody impatient, Potter…you had a lot of hair and it took a while."

Harry sighed. "I want to touch it."

"You're a tactile sort, huh? It feels nice actually…well, all but the top which is gummy still." Satisfied that he was no longer about to give himself completely away, he tied his robe firmly shut and moved around to Harry's front, noting the well-developed chest and pectorals, biceps. He swallowed.

"Uh, Potter…I know you're big on hiding the scar, but that's not gonna be possible with this, so don't freak out on me, all right?"

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, its not like everyone doesn't know about it anyway – just do what you have to do to it to make it look reasonable."

Draco nodded and took a breath, turning the clippers back on and placing them at the hairline, moving his hand down to Harry's neck to keep his head straight. Harry, he noted, was still chewing on the inside of his lip and the sight was almost unbearably erotic. With effort, he shifted his mind to the task at hand.

It was weird, how part of him hated doing this, cutting off the hair he'd dreamed of burying his face in…and pulling on…but at the same time, he was incredibly turned on by doing so, and was just sorry that he'd only have to chance to stroke it once – maybe twice - under the guise of checking for uniformity.

Damn his own image and their adversarial background…all he wanted to do right now was finish up and then take Harry back into the bathtub and kiss him until they were both out of breath, then run his hands all over his body and…

"Oi, Malfoy!"

Harry was looking up at him inquiringly. "Are you going to..?"

"Yes. Hold still."

Draco concentrated on clipping the top, making sure to blend it with the sides; it was definitely short, but Christ, did Potter look hot. He finally had to finish, and allowed himself to run his hand over it, brushing against his neck, allowing his fingers to stay there perhaps a moment too long…because he was suddenly aware that Potter was watching him, and there was a look he thought he recognized in those green, green eyes. But it couldn't be…could it?

"Done," he said, pulling his own eyes away. "No goo and it will actually be easy for you now – nothing to stick up or get messy."

"**Now** can I touch?"

"Knock yourself out." He turned away and took a deep breath, trying to collect himself and forget that he had just seen an expression in Potter's eyes that he would have died for any other time.

Fuck…he was dying for it now. What would be the worst thing that could happen if he grabbed Potter and kissed him? Hexing? A shove away? A punch in the nose?

He heard Harry stand up behind him and swallowed. He waited a moment, then turned around to find Harry running his hand experimentally over his hair. "Wow."

"Yeah; it had to be done though. Next time, watch out for exploding cauldrons will you?"

"I'll try." He paused. "Thank you."

Draco nodded casually. "Don't think I'm gonna be nice to you now…I just didn't need to look up in every class and see a goo-covered Gryffindork."

"Unless said Gryffindork was covered in goo of your own making."

Draco started. "What?"

"You know what I meant…what I mean." Harry was tying his robe and his eyes were turned downwards.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, hoping it could be heard over the rapid beating of his heart. _If you're gonna do it, do it now_…

The other shrugged. "Ok then. You don't." He paused and looked up. "I take it this is a huge secret – for all anyone knows, I went into Hogsmeade illegally and will for sure get detention for leaving the grounds alone."

"Uh, yeah, you probably should…keep it quiet, that is. No one would believe it anyway."

"True. You did do a good job though…thanks again."

Draco nodded. "Looks decent at least."

Harry gave him a half-smile then and left the bathroom, the door shutting behind him.

The mermaid winked at him and he sighed and immersed himself in the tub, deciding that the old cliché was right…no good deed goes unpunished.

&&&&&

The next day when Harry walked into Potions, Snape looked him over sardonically and said "Potter, in the interest of you keeping the hair that remains, may I suggest you wear a hat during class?" The rest of the Slytherins snickered and Harry shook his head. "I fully plan to be more aware of what's in my cauldron and its potential explosive properties from now on, Professor."

Snape looked vaguely surprised, having anticipated at the least a blush and at most, a smart-arsed reply that would justify taking House points for insolence. No luck either way, which deepened his already testy mood. "For your sake, Potter, I certainly hope so. Now turn to page 268 in your Potions text…"

Snape droned on and Harry pretended to listen. Across the aisle, Draco actually DID listen, but was so practiced at splitting his mind in half that he found it easy to ogle Harry without actually looking like he was. His hair looked extremely dark today with all the sun streaks gone, his skin slightly tanned from Quidditch, his eyes behind those damnable glasses, very very green. He sighed and Pansy poked him in the ribs. "I can't believe I'm saying this," she whispered "But Potter looks really cute with his hair like that. He should keep it that way – it's hot."

Behind them, Goyle snorted and Blaise Zabini sighed. "Gotta agree Pans…he looks…well, delicious, for lack of better word."

"Mr. Zabini…what exactly looks "delicious" about the _Dessicata_ brew?" Snape's formidable eyebrows had become as one and he glared down at Blaise, who calmly replied. "It's not the potion, sir – its Crabbe's Danish he has stashed under his desk. The jam looks especially tempting this morning."

Draco snorted and Pansy bit her lip as the unfortunate Crabbe was made to dispose of his Danish…by wearing it perched atop his round head. Harry had to laugh as he imagined Crabbe attempting to Engorgio his tongue in order to lick his snack. Draco wondered if Harry had heard Pansy – he didn't think so, but again, Parkinson was about as subtle as an Unforgivable so he was sure to get wind of her "approval."

As the day progressed, it became apparent that Pansy and that nelly bottom Blaise were not the only ones who found Potter's new look appealing; he heard comments in the halls from various Houses – boys and girls both, and he couldn't decide which one was more annoying – that Potter looked damn good and perhaps that cauldron experiment should be repeated on a regular basis. Potter himself, as usual, appeared oblivious despite agreeably allowing people to rub his head during study period…including Professor Sprout, who told him delightedly that his hair felt just like the Zimbabwean matta fruit…soft and fuzzy.

Fucking batty professors got to touch Harry, but he couldn't. It just wasn't fair. At all. And he was not happy. At all.

&&&&&

Weeks passed this way – there were no more "accidents" in Potions, people got used to Harry's new look and things went on as they normally did. As time progressed, Draco noted – during his daily scrutiny in the Great Hall – that Potter appeared a bit…shaggy. Pansy echoed his thoughts. "Potter needs another haircut; maybe I'll go tell him so."

"Maybe you should if you care that much," said Draco with pretended indifference. "I'm sure he'd be flattered to know you care about his appearance."

'I think I shall then…it seems a shame to let hotness go awry, even if it IS on a Gryffindork." So speaking, she stood up and left their table, too-short uniform skirt swinging in tandem with her dangling earrings. She crossed to the Gryffindor table and looked down at Harry, who was forming a mountain range with his mashed potatoes. She rapped him on the head and he looked up.

"Potter."

"Parkinson…to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"At least you recognize my presence as such." She folded her arms. "Get your hair cut, Potter. You looked good but you're veering towards messy again, so fix it."

"Is that an order?" Potter looked amused, damn him.

"Yes it is…don't tell me I'm the first one to say so."

"You're the first person rude enough, yes…but that's unsurprising." This from Hermione, on Harry's other side. She scowled at Pansy, who rolled her eyes. "Like you don't ogle him too, Granger…that is, if you can see from underneath those eyebrows. Ever heard of tweezers?"

Hermione sputtered. "Ever heard of a ...?"

"Mione, don't bother…Parkinson, thank you for the constructive criticism," said Harry quickly. "I'll be sure to take it under consideration."

"You'd better. There aren't enough good looking men here as it is." She punched his shoulder rather hard, and flounced back to the Slytherin table, where Draco was pinching the bridge of his nose. "That was subtle."

"Subtlety doesn't work on Gryffindors, Draco – you basically have to slap them across the face with the facts." She sat down, satisfied. "I'll give him till the weekend."

"Or what?"

"I'll stage an intervention and do it myself is what." She turned to Blaise and they began debating why there weren't enough hot men at Hogwarts and how that pressing problem could be remedied. Draco scowled – over his cold dead body was Parkinson fucking touching Potter's hair or anything else - then looked over at Harry, who was watching him with the slightest smirk on his face.

Prat.

&&&&&

The note, delivered by a common brown school owl was succinct. **"I've been told in no uncertain terms…do you want to do it for me?"**

No signature; but then again it needed none. Draco debated ignoring it, but could not ignore the sudden tightening in his boxer briefs, so he scribbled back. **"I guess I can. When?"**

The return was swift. **"Tomorrow night. 7pm. 4****th**** floor, last door on left."**

What the fuck was on the fourth floor? The Room of Requirement was on the seventh floor, which is what Draco would have assumed Potter would choose…or was he afraid of what might appear if he did?

Draco knew that HIS choice would include a big bathtub and a deep, soft bed; if he was meeting Potter, that is. Oh, and whiskey – to calm the nerves and all.

Friday night came, and he arranged to trade prefect duties that night with his co-Slytherin, after promising several times to help her with a love potion for, of all people, Ernie MacMillan. A Hufflepuff, no less. Jesus. There really was no accounting for taste.

_You're hot for a Gryffindor, Malfoy…and you want to see him again, do that for him again and hope that this time he'll let you do more than run your hand over his head when you're done_.

He found the door easily enough, but if he was not vastly mistaken, it was the door to a cleaning cupboard. Was Potter truly mental as rumor had it? He wondered, even though a not unpleasant tingeing in his groin let it be known that he didn't really care – or at least his body didn't.

Feeling a bit of an arse – though a horny one – he knocked and was rewarded with the sight of Potter opening the door, clad only in pajama bottoms. "Hey," said Harry casually, as if entertaining half-naked in a cupboard was normal and acceptable etiquette. "Come in."

Draco stood there. "Potter, this is a cleaning cupboard."

"Seems to be, yes…care to come in regardless?"

Draco closed his eyes briefly, but then ducked in as Harry moved back, brushing against him just slightly…then his eyes widened. The "cupboard" was actually a 15x15 foot square room, which was simply furnished with a table (upon which several books were heaped) a chair, a small couch, another chair and table and a small icebox of sorts, presumably for cold drinks. The floor was covered with a thick rug which even to his shod foot felt deep and soft.

The door closed behind him and a voice said "Not bad, huh?"

"Uhm no…not bad at all. How did you..?"

"Well, at the risk of giving you even more ammunition for your contention that I lead a charmed life and am showered with preferential treatment, Dumbledore gave me this space at the start of the year – so I could get away from all the people on my arse all the time. He figured it was easier to do this than to explain to the rest of the wizarding world that I'd gone stark raving nutters and yeah, they had to find a new hero." This was said with no sense of bragging or entitlement. It just was.

Draco had to agree. "Smart of the old man," he said, looking about. "Guess we all need some privacy now and again."

"Yeah…there's even a small loo through that door, so I'm basically set when I want to be alone."

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one – well, except you now, of course. Won't do any good to tell anyone though. Anyone else opens the door it's a tiny broom closet.

"I wouldn't tell anyone, Potter, for God's sakes. I'm not exactly out to get you anymore, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I had noticed that, actually. Want something to drink?"

"Don't suppose there's any butterbeer in there?"

Harry handed him a cold bottle, popping the cap. Draco accepted it and their fingers touched briefly – he felt a tingle along his spine and wondered if Potter felt the same.

"So…Pansy tells me I need another haircut, lest I become the sloppy beast I was before." Harry's voice was casual. Draco shrugged. "She has strong opinions and isn't afraid to express them."

"No she isn't…and she punches pretty hard – my shoulder is still sore."

"Want me to rub it for you?"

Harry looked over at him. "That would be good." He pulled the chair into the center of the small room and sat down. Draco set his beer down on the table, and pushed up the sleeves of his t-shirt. "Lean forward a bit, ok?"

Harry complied, but the angle was awkward. "Hmm…make the chair bigger will you? At least the seat." Harry did so, making the chair substantially larger and wider. Draco sat down first, spreading his legs on either side of the chair seat and then indicating the space between him. "Now sit down."

Harry sat, tentatively, and found that they didn't actually have to touch – for which he was grateful. Despite his outward calmness, his stomach was fluttery and had been since he sent the first owl yesterday. But a moment later, he felt Draco's hands on his shoulders, and those practiced fingers probing and rubbing and he sighed and let his head drop forward onto his chest.

That tanned neck was right in front of him…mere millimeters from his face. How easy, absurdedly easy it would be to lean forward just the tiniest bit and lick that neck, right around the area where the tiny feather-light hair gathered…

He swallowed and resolutely turned his attention back to the massage, trying to ignore how close Potter was, how he could lean back and be at just the right angle to kiss if he would only turn his head and….

"Done," he said shortly, standing up. Harry slid off the chair in front of him and let him up. "That felt really nice…thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, do you want me to..?"

"Yeah, if you would…I wound up liking it a lot, surprisingly, although everyone wanting to rub my head got a bit annoying after a while."

"Like Professor Sprout?" Draco couldn't hide his smirk. Harry sighed. "Yes…although anything that might help my Herbology grade is welcome."

"You could…and I know this might sound shocking to you, Potter…but you COULD try studying occasionally."

"I do study! It's just that plants aren't my thing. I could kill an artificial plant, let alone a real one."

"That would be a real accomplishment, Potter."

"Just do it Malfoy, would you? And you will notice I told no one, not even when Zabini was sniffing around me."

"Zabini wants to fuck you." Draco said this as casually as possible, watching for Harry's reaction.

"Zabini's a total bottom," answered Harry dismissively. "I'm not interested in one of those."

"The fact that he's a bottom bothers you?" THIS was interesting and he intended to pursue it as far as Potter would let him. "No, he's welcome to it. It's just that I'M a bottom and I want a strong top, not another like me."

The honesty of the answer stunned him and he was silent for several moments. "Really?" was all he could think of to say.

"Really. Can we do this now?"

"Uh, yeah, sure…you got places to go and things to do?" Draco realized he didn't have anything with him and fumbled for his wand to conjure.

"Not especially…just like the sensation of those moving against my skin – it's arousing and I want to feel it again."

So he HAD been! Dammit! He wasn't sure what his face showed, but it must have been something because Harry was looking at him speculatively. "If that bothers you, you don't have to do it. It's not like I'm gonna wank in the chair in front of you or something like that."

_I'd pay to see that._

Draco shrugged. "I don't care, Potter; whatever works for you. It makes no difference at all to me." He busied himself readying the just-conjured clippers and choosing the guard length. "I don't think that's completely true," said Harry, but he sat down and turned his back to Draco before he could react. He decided to let it go and get this over with as quickly as possible before he said or did something to give himself away..

"Do you want it same as last time?"

"What other options are there?"

"There are two other levels below the one I used before…1/4th inch and 1/8th inch. I was trying not to shock you too much all at once."

"That was suspiciously kind of you…the first one you said would be good, I think. I liked the way it felt; it might feel even better shorter. And it will last longer before I have to have it cut again."

"Fine, if you say so." Draco felt vaguely hurt and didn't know why – ok, yes he did. Potter apparently wanted to see him no more often than he had to. Fine, then. Fuck him.

"Sit up, head down." His voice was brusque and he found his wrist caught by another hand. "It's not that."

"Not what? And let go please."

Harry didn't. "Its not that I don't want to do this as often – if it feels as good as last time, I'd do it fucking daily if I could– it's just that I don't want people to make the connection somehow and have it turn around on you and get you in trouble with…whoever."

Draco pulled his wrist free. "I doubt anyone would make the connection - and if they did, why the fuck would I care?"

"You'd care. God forbid you were having anything at all to do with me. You might get Avada-ed over Christmas or something for your trouble." There was an undertone there. "Anyway, that's why."

"Your concern for me is touching Potter," he said, but the curt tone was gone and Harry relaxed, rolled his shoulders and put his head down, letting Draco start cutting, sighing deeply as he felt the clippers move up his head.

"This feels good to you."

"Uh-huh."

"How come?"

"Dunno, just does."

"Describe it for me – I'd like to know."

"Why?"

"Just 'cause. Humor me."

A snort from the other boy. "It's hard to describe…it'd be easier to show you but you'd never let me." Harry's voice was muffled.

"Who says I wouldn't?"

A scoff. "As fucking if, Malfoy."

Draco finished the back –it went far faster than the first time - and moved to Harry's left side. "You can put your head up now. You seem awfully sure of your answer."

"I am…is it much shorter this time?"

"Somewhat, but it looks good. Why are you sure?"

"Do you enjoy asking me questions?"

"Do you enjoy sidestepping answering?" He watched Harry's lip curl in amusement.

"I'm not sidestepping. You asked, I said it's hard to describe, easier to experience."

"And then that I'd never let you."

"You wouldn't. Part of it's the heat – the warmth feels good. Part is the sensation, the vibration maybe, part of it is just giving up control, actually feeling the hair come off…like I said, hard to describe."

"Hmmm…it's a control thing?"

"Maybe…although that doesn't mean I want you to control me. Just means I…"

"Get hot at the thought of being helpless?"

Harry snorted. "I should spend all my days in an advanced state of arousal then – considering that's how I feel most of the time anyway."

"I'd think you'd feel strong…look who you are, after all."

"Yeah, let's look who I am…Harry Potter, puppet, and predestined wizard warrior." The undertone was back, and this time, Draco wanted to understand it.

"You feel like a puppet?"

Harry snorted. "I AM a puppet. Look…I really don't want to talk about this at the moment…I just want to _feel_ right now, you know?"

Draco was silent a moment. "I understand." He decided to change the subject, although the facets of Harry's arousal fascinated him. But before he could say anything else, Harry shifted in his seat a bit and Draco couldn't help glancing down to see if Harry was obviously excited yet…if at all. He wasn't sure because the other boy, damn him, had his hands resting on his lap.

"So…you think you know me and what I think?" He moved to the other side and had to put his hand on Harry's head. "Remember, you need to stay straight."

"It's a bit late; that ship has sailed."

"Oh right, bottom boy; that was an unfortunate choice of words."

"If you think calling me a bottom is an insult…"

"How can it be when you so willingly admit to being one?"

"Exactly." Harry's voice was indifferent when he said, "I assume you're a top."

"You're assuming I prefer males to females."

There was a pause. "You do, don't you?"

"What makes you think that? Oh, right…you know me and what I would or would not do without asking. How foolish of me to forget so readily."

Harry was quiet for a moment before he blurted out, "Why'd you fuck Nott of all people?"

Draco started and was glad that he had just finished a pass so that he didn't screw it up. He stopped for a moment. "How did you..?"

"He bragged about it in the changing room after the last match. I mean, Theodore Nott? He must be hung and you must have spelled him mute, because otherwise I don't see how you could take it."

"HE took it, not me. And yes, I kept conversation to an absolute minimum."

"You'd have to." Harry was silent for a moment, then "Will you do the top part now?"

"You're pretty fucking demanding." But he did it anyway, a bit regretfully since it was the last section to do, then removed the guard to edge the neckline and around the ears, resisting the urge to blow lightly into them. After that he was done, and was oddly disappointed…and horny because fuck, this _worked_ for Potter and he was so goddamned hot anyway…

"Done?"

"Yes. Go ahead and feel, stroke, wank, whatever."

"You first."

"Huh?"

'You go ahead and touch it. I know you want to – you were hard in the bathroom, I bet you are now, too, and you didn't dare to last time, so go for it."

When Draco hesitated, not sure whether to protest or just give in, Harry sighed and reached down and took his hand, placing it unceremoniously on his neck, where, independent of any conscious intent, the fingers began to move, stroking the nape involuntarily, then moving upwards against the soft, electric brush. He sighed and felt himself harden further and had to bite down on his lip hard. Potter, mercifully said nothing, just let Draco's fingers wander over his hair, relaxing under the other boy's gentle touch.

After several moments, Draco shook himself out of his reverie and reluctantly took his hand away. Harry looked up at him. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because…" he found he didn't have a good reason, so he attempted to look bored. 'I'm done, you're done, it looks fine and I'll be on my way."

"You're not done."

"Yes I am."

"No…you're not." Harry stood up and faced him, then pushed him down into the chair. "You said I was too sure of my answers…am I?"

Draco shifted in the chair. "You're pretty damn cocky."

"That's not an answer, that's a statement of fact. I told you that you should experience the feeling if you were that curious…are you?"

He swallowed. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Uh-huh. And I said you'd never let me. Was I right or wrong? And don't dodge the question; it's a simple yes or no answer." He waited. "Malfoy?"

"You were wrong." Draco found it was hard to talk; Harry standing in front of him, the sensation of touching him still in his fingertips, Potter being so fucking take-charge all of a sudden…he felt himself tighten again almost painfully.

"Was I?"

Mutely, he nodded. He didn't much care what Potter did to him as long as he could be this close to him…and god help him, he liked being talked to like this.

"Is that a yes, Malfoy?"

"Yes." His voice was a near whisper.

"Let me make answering my inquiries a more fun and interesting experience for you."

Harry squatted in front of him, so they were eye to eye. Holding his gaze, Harry reached over and slid his hand into the waistband of Draco's track pants, his fingers brushing lightly against the trail of hair under the belly button, sliding down far enough to rub his fingertips at the base of Draco's cock, then draw them back up, running along the underside, setting his nerve endings on fire; he moaned involuntarily, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry's. "Guess I'm not the only one turned on by this - and by being this close together - now am I?"

Draco shook his head. Harry slid his hand back out and stood up. "Wondered how long it would take you to make a move on me…you've watched me all year…fuck, you've watched me for four years. I can feel your eyes on me, sense you shadowing me." He tilted Draco's face up to him. "I find it rather curious that only **my** cauldron exploded that day…that only my _oranime_ root caused such a reaction. I mean," he licked his lips "I had the same ingredients as everyone else…yet my brew blew up. Odd, isn't it?"

"You're rubbish at Potions, Potter…it's not **that** odd." Draco tried to regain control of his voice, but it was difficult when Harry was gently stroking his thumb along his jaw as he spoke. "I'll admit, it's not my subject…but even I know when something's been switched…now what I want to know is this." Harry let go of Draco's face and then upped the ante by sitting down – on his lap - straddling his legs, his hands on the back of the chair, pinning him. "Why did you do it, Malfoy? Was it just another day of fucking with Potter? Another joke at my expense?"

Draco could barely breathe. Harry was so close and bare-chested and god, he looked so…he exhaled and shook his head. "No? Then you must have done it so that would happen and you would have some reasonable excuse to do what you did…to be there in the bathroom, to offer to fix the results of your substitution. Did you know it would come out like that or were you just lucky?"

"Lucky," he whispered. "I just thought I'd get you into the prefect's tub and be able to…I didn't know it wouldn't come out till after I did it. I didn't plan the hair, honestly…not like that."

"Did it make you happy to do that to me?" Harry was So. Close.

"Yes and no." Harry's brow rose and he waited expectantly. "I dreamed of pulling your hair, using it to yank you down on me when we…" he swallowed, "and I didn't want it to go off…but then when it had to, you looked so hot and you liked it and…" He trailed off. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Harry leaned back and looked at him. "Fucking Slytherins…you can't NOT be slippery bastards can you? How about just asking me out?"

"You would have said no."

"You don't know that. Now you never will." Harry slid back and stood up. "Guess you are done, after all."

He turned and went into the loo, and Draco heard the water running. Harry came back a moment later, rubbing his wet head with a towel, then wiping his face. "I like this even better than before; think I was a little shell-shocked the first time. Thank you for doing it again for me."

"Your, uh, welcome." Draco was confused and it showed. Harry pulled on a T-shirt, effectively covering himself up. "I'm sure YOU have things to do, Mr. Prefect Sir, so…"

"What are you playing at Potter? One moment you're touching me, the next moment you're pushing me out the door. What gives?" Draco was not only confused now, but a bit angry too.

Harry folded his arms. "You weren't honest with me."

"Why would I be? I never have been before. So what? You know now, what's your problem?"

"The problem, as you put it, is that you used trickery on me when you could have just had some fucking guts and asked me out. You could have found a way. But no, you had to do some convoluted shit and mess with me. It shouldn't bother me – not after all this time - but it does."

"I **said** I was sorry. I should have done it the regular way, but our history pretty much doesn't allow for that."

"Our history doesn't allow for much."

"That's why you could change it now, if you wanted to. You could sit me down, do whatever you want to MY hair, then crawl back on my lap and have your way with me. I'd let you."

Harry swallowed – the thought was enticing and he had been wanking to it for weeks now, but…"You'd_ let_ me? Oh boy. Lucky me."

"No. Lucky **me**." Draco crossed the space between them in one step and taking Harry's face in both hands, he kissed him, hard, feeling the other's mouth soften under his and respond. He didn't stop or let go, just deepened the kiss, and when Harry's lips parted, he slid his tongue into the other's mouth and felt the emotion surge in him as Harry pressed into him, one hand going to the small of his back and pulling up the shirt to feel the skin there, the other going to the back of his head, cupping it, tangling his fingers in his hair. He moaned involuntarily and Harry pulled back to bite his lip, hard. "Are you fucking with me again Malfoy?"

"No…but I **am** going to fuck you. You want a top, you have one." He watched Harry's eyes widen and darken and a flush stain his cheeks.

"You think YOU can top ME?"

"I know I can – what's more, you want me to, and badly… as badly as I want you. So do whatever you want to me, then get ready to be slammed into the floor…but not before I do this." He turned Harry's head and sucked at his neck, his lips traveling up to the underside of his chin and back down, then to his ear, where he nipped the earlobe hard, then licked it.

Harry was gasping now…"Oh my God."

"Your god is who I'll be when we're done. I will tell you that this whole scenario has me fucking hard as a rock so you need to get busy or I will NOT be responsible for what happens."

"Are you really?" Harry's voice was uneven.

In answer, Draco grabbed his hand and placed it squarely on his cock, closing his hand around Harry's. "Really."

"You're gonna let me…"

"Yes."

"Oh…fuck me."

"I will." He sat down and stretched his legs out, gesturing to the table. "Go to it."

Harry hesitated a moment. "You won't look much like Draco Malfoy."

"That's fine with me; besides which you have me curious as hell. Go." He leaned over, picked up the clippers and put them into Harry's hand. The hand closed around them and Harry looked down at him – Jesus God, those eyes…and then shocked him by leaning down and brushing a surprisingly gentle kiss over his lips, the tenderness taking him by surprise. He felt his insides melt and knew his own eyes had gone soft.

He looked down as he heard the clippers come to life and steadied himself for the sensation; which he felt immediately as Harry chose to start at the top, running them down the center of his head – fuck, they were warm and the shock of much cooler air in their wake made him shiver.

"Feel it?"

"Fuck yeah….you weren't kidding."

"Uh-uh." He continued, and Draco felt them move up the back of his head, the sensation going straight to his groin; he tensed and felt the shiver start at the base of his spine and travel all the way up. He took a deep breath.

Harry had to bite back a snicker. "I'd ask if you want me to stop but, a) you'd look totally bizarre, and b) you don't want me to anyway."

"No, I don't want you to stop. It just feels…"

"I know." Harry trailed his fingers lightly along Draco's cheek then down to his shoulder, brushing loose hair off them, then continuing his ministrations, his touch firm and authoritative.

"You sure you've not done this before?"

"Nope…I just pay attention, and it's not like it can get too fucked up. I really like doing this to you though. I can see why you did, too."

"I'm enjoying having it done…just hope I'll look as good as you."

"You will – hell, you'll look better. You had better material to start with."

Draco snorted. "That's bullshit – you're the hottest fucking guy IN this school, bar none – even before the haircut, even covered in green goo."

"You're mental."

"It's the truth."

Harry shook his head. "And you never said anything like this to me before…why?"

"Because you'd hex my bits off…or Granger would. Weasley would try and fail."

Harry had to nod…it was true. "Ok, well…you could have sent me an owl, a note or something. I would have given you the benefit of the doubt."

"Sure you would have." He was quiet for a moment, and Harry paused. "I would have, Draco. It's not like I haven't thought the same thing about you."

"Have you?"

"Christ, yes…you must have been able to tell."

Draco started to answer but Harry put his hand on his neck then. "I'm almost done…hold that thought…whatever it is…for a moment, ok?"

Without waiting for an answer, Harry finished clipping him, and went to remove the small stray hairs from Draco's neck…then shocked him by running his tongue down his neck, biting, then licking the area lightly. Draco felt his breath hitch in his throat and turned in his chair to look up at the other boy, who was looking at him with that same look as in the prefect bathroom…but now he was sure what it meant.

"I want you Malfoy." Harry's voice was calm. "I always have." He straddled him again, but this time his hands were wrapped around the back of Draco's neck. "You look fucking hot."

"Do I?" Harry's heat was making him light-headed…as was, he thought hazily, the fact that he now had a whole lot less hair than he had 20 minutes ago. "Yeah…you do. Want to see?"

He nodded, and Harry slid off him, pulling him up out of the chair and scourgifying them both as well as the area. Draco went into the loo and cautiously looked in the mirror – now that it was done, he found himself a bit nervous to see what the "New Draco who was gonna shag Harry Potter" looked like.

"See…you're gorgeous. Told you so." Harry's voice was amused and still had that huskiness that made Draco want to jump him immediately. He did look good, dammit…the short hair made him look like not Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin…but a very good looking man who had another, hotter (in his opinion) man hanging over him.

Harry rested his chin on his shoulder. "Pansy's gonna shit…you do know this. She's gonna want to crawl into your pants and…"

"Pansy can kiss my ass…and she's not getting anywhere near my pants."

"She'd love to kiss your ass…and anywhere else she could, I'm sure." Harry's smirk was almost his own and he has to smirk in return. "Not gonna happen. Only one person I want in my pants and he's standing right here."

"Nott better never be near you again, the fucker."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As if….that was a mistake. Doesn't matter how horny I was, there was no call for doing that, I agree." He studied himself for a moment, then turned to Harry. "That felt really good."

"I know; now you know what I felt like in the prefect's bathroom."

"You should have said something…we could have been doing this a month ago."

Harry sighed. "I tried to…but you didn't take the bait."

"I was too shocked to respond, I guess…but I'm not now." He put his hand back on Harry's neck and pulled him to him, till they were nose to nose. "You ready for this?"

"I was born ready."

Draco smirked and pushed Harry backwards into the room. "Are you any better at Transfiguration than you are at Potions?"

"If that's your snotty-arsed way of asking if I can transfigure the couch into a bed, then yeah…stand back."

A moment later, a double bed – draped in scarlet and gold, no less – appeared and Harry immediately lay down on it, pulling his bottoms off and spreading his legs. Draco laughed. "A bit eager, are we?"

"Yes. I've waited fucking forever for this and I'm not wasting time."

Draco had to grin at that. "Can I get some more kissing and touching first? Maybe some…"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Foreplay, Malfoy? I'm surprised."

"You think I don't have a romantic soul?"

"Honestly? I never figured you for more than a fuck."

Stung, Draco stepped back and looked down at Harry, who looked back at him with a "Well?" expression on his face.

"No more than a fuck."

He picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head and left the room quickly, slamming the door behind him.

&&&&&

He could barely look at Harry in History of Magic the next day…all comments from his house regarding his altered appearance had been silenced by the casual announcement that he had recently read up on a charm that caused cocks to shrink, balls to expand till just before the point of bursting and vaginas to seal themselves up forever. That simple comment had made most of them shut up…save Nott, who draped himself over Draco in the loo, fondled his ass and told him that he'd never looked sexier…then had backed off quickly when Draco told him calmly to move his hand or lose it.

Nott moved it.

He finally managed to glance over at Harry to find him being watched speculatively from behind the glasses. He swallowed and turned away.

Charms wasn't much different…Herbology was made even less bearable than usual when Professor Sprout noted that HIS hair was even softer than Potter's and therefore felt exactly like a Luxembourgian peach. He glanced up at Harry, caught him snickering and silenced him with a vicious glare.

He kept hearing Potter's words over and over in his head…"Honestly? Never figured you for more than a fuck."

"Never more than…"

"..a fuck." As though it were a well known fact.

He was in the library that night, in the far corner, still trying to figure out why that particular phrase made him feel so bloody miserable when the chair across from his scraped the floor and a thump announced the presence of another body. He looked up, ready to reduce the offending body to a grease spot; but stopped short when those green eyes met his calmly.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, until Draco found his voice and hissed "What the fuck do YOU want?"

"I thought I made that abundantly clear, but I guess I need to be more explicit; here, I drew a picture." Harry slid a paper across the table, and Draco, despite his anger, almost laughed. It was remarkably well done and very…detailed. "See, that's me, lying down, and that's you with the scowl, kneeling between my…"

"You're a goddamned riot, Potter."

"I know. Are you getting my point here?"

Draco shoved the paper back. "I GOT your point the other night, you tosser…however, for some reason, I have an aversion to being anyone's cheap fuck so I guess you're shit out of luck."

Harry looked down and bit his lip. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I'm sure." Draco picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink to finish his essay.

"Truly…I was surprised that you wanted anything…well, sweet. Or affectionate, loving even…" Harry trailed off, then sighed. "I thought all you wanted was a physical thing."

"It was." Draco began to write, trying very hard to ignore Harry's presence, his heat, or the fact that he smelled really, really good. Some sort of cologne, he thought…and not cheap stuff either.

Harry reached out and plucked the quill from his fingers. "You don't kiss people you just want to shag. Kissing, touching is…well, it's intimate. More intimate than making love in a lot of ways."

"Making love" implies that there's some emotion there, and I hardly think that's the case here. Base lust, maybe – I'll spot you that – but if you think I love you Potter, then you really are around the bend."

"I don't think that. Why would you ever love me?"

Harry's voice sounded odd and he stood up quickly, nearly overturning the chair in his haste. "Sorry to bother you with stupid discourses on emotion. Silly fucking me." He tossed the quill back onto the table, breaking the tip off in the process. He grabbed his book and shoved the chair in, hard, sending it clattering against the oak table and causing several people to crane their necks at the noise. Before Draco could say anything, Harry was gone…and all that was left was a lingering scent.

And a very detailed picture.

&&&&&

Harry didn't seek him out again, and Draco didn't go out of his way to get near him; they ignored each other in class, much as they always had, and the days turned into weeks. Pansy made no mention of hotness gone awry and Draco spent his time alternately fending off Nott, watching Potter, and pondering the meaning of attraction.

For his part, Harry spent his time fending off Colin Creevey – who had just discovered his liking for boys – watching Malfoy, and pondering why he'd felt the need to try and apologize to the other boy. Malfoy WOULD have been just a fuck (and a damn good one, if Harry's vivid dreams were any indication), so what the hell was his problem?

Except for that annoying small voice which stated that Malfoy had wanted more, he _himself_ had wanted more, the kiss had proved it, and someone – namely himself – had been afraid and therefore had really fucked up.

He tried asking Hermione, subtly, what it meant when someone got upset at something you said even when you both knew it to be true.

"If someone gets upset with you over something you say, then it's because you hit a nerve somewhere, Harry. You touched on something they fear, or dislike about themselves, or don't wish to admit."

"But it's the absolute truth!"

"Whether or not it's true is irrelevant. Ever just thought you might have hurt their feelings?"

"This person has no feelings."

"Don't be an idiot Harry…even the coldest git on earth has feelings. Even Malfoy has feelings."

He looked at her sharply, but her face revealed nothing. This was why he didn't trust girls…they could look completely innocent, yet almost never were.

"Why did you mention Malfoy?"

"I was thinking of the coldest git on earth and he came to mind. Why are you asking me that in that tone of voice?"

"What tone? I have no tone."

She sighed and got up from the chair, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him up the stairs towards her room.

"Don't look now, but Ron's jealous."

In answer, she gave a particularly sharp tug, causing him to nearly trip and fall on his face, eliciting laughter from a certain red-headed best mate. Hermione smiled. "Not anymore, he's not."

Once in her room, she shut the door, cast a Silencing and leaned against it. "What did you say to him, Harry?"

He fidgeted. "Who?"

"You know who."

"Voldie? Nothing much since he last tried to kill me; we only speak every other week though, so…"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be an ass; you know damn well who I mean."

He sighed. "I said I'd never thought of him as more than a fuck."

She came and sat down next to him on the bed; he expected her to take his hand or rub his neck…but instead she merely looked at him and said "You idiot."

"I know. And he won't give a millimeter, either."

"You hurt his feelings, Harry."

"I didn't mean to!" He stood up and started walking around the room, randomly touching things – which drove Hermione crazy.

"Stop touching my stuff. You need to apologize. He wanders around looking wounded and its even starting to make ME feel bad for him, so…" She stood up and caught his hand mid-air. "I said stop touching my stuff!"

"Sorry."

"You're not – you do it every bloody time you're in here. Send him a note, Harry, or grab him some quiet, unobtrusive NON-PUBLIC place and say "Sorry, I'm an ass."

"Ugh."

She let go of his hand and put her arms around him. "It's not fun being wrong…which is why I never am."

He smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yes. And after you apologize and shag him rotten, he needs to give you a going over…you're all fuzzy and stick-uppy, and as Pansy Parkinson would say "There aren't enough hot men here as it is."

He laughed. "God forbid I argue with Parkinson."

"I hate to say it, but she's right, so go find Malfoy and get this settled. Then have a few butterbeers, get comfortable, let him do his thing to you… then let him pound you into the mattress."

"Hermione Jean Granger!" He pretended to be horrified but couldn't help smirking. "What makes you think he'll be pounding ME? Maybe I'll be pounding HIM."

She snorted. "Oh please…you're such a bottom. Everyone knows. Creevey's devastated because he too is a bottom and that means…"

"Creevey needs to find himself a Hufflepuff and quit following me around. Maybe I can threaten to petrify him again or something…"

"Get out of here and go find Malfoy, all right? Go!" She opened the door and unceremoniously shoved him out. He went, still snickering at Hermione's pronouncement.

Where might Malfoy be? He stopped and thought…the library? No. His dorm? Possibly, but he wasn't going to brave the Slytherin Common Room tonight. Hmmm…maybe the…

He arrived at the Potions classroom, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the odor wafting out from under the door. He devoutly hoped he was right about the occupant and was not about to come face to face with Snape. That could really ruin your day.

As well as your next several nights or possibly weeks, when you were stuck in detention.

He pushed open the door and stuck his head in cautiously…and yes, there he was, the object of his, uhm, affections; standing over a bubbling cauldron, still in his white button down shirt, and Slytherin tie…and looking hot.

And sweaty, Harry realized as he silently shrugged his robe off his shoulders and tossed it onto the nearest desk. He quietly approached the other boy and leaned against the table just to his right, not saying anything, just watching.

It took Draco a few moments to realize he was being watched, and by whom. He carefully finished adding the last two ingredients to whatever he was making, and stirred several times before setting down the spoon, wiping his forehead and turning to face Harry. "What now, Potter?"

"What are you making?"

"Nothing that would interest you. Why are you here?"

"I came to find you."

Draco sighed and wiped his forehead again with his sleeve. "So you found me. What?"

Harry stood up and walked over to him, stopping about a foot shy of actually touching him. "I was an arsehole for saying that to you and I'm sorry."

Draco stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Ok." He turned back to his cauldron and commenced stirring.

"Just ok?"

"What did you want me to say?"

"How about "Thanks Potter, I appreciate that sorry is hard to say…now get naked!"

He scowled. "Yeah, as if I'd say that now."

"Draco, come on. I said I was sorry, I meant it, mean it…please."

He set down his spoon once more and turned. "Please what? I opened myself up to you and got slapped down and told I'd be nothing more than a fuck…like it was nothing to you. How the hell did you think I'd react?"

Harry blew out his breath and taking off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and looked up. "I told you in the library…I was surprised that you wanted to be affectionate with me, is all. It's not something I ever expected of you, and so I made myself be cool about it…" He took a step closer. "I was amazed when you wanted to kiss me more first, to make being together more than a quickie. And instead of letting my heart decide, I…I reacted the way I thought YOU would if I ever said that to you." His voice had become very quiet. "I want you. I told you I did, and I still do."

Draco was silent and Harry moved till they were nearly touching. "I'm sorry it hurt your feelings…I really and truly am. I would take it back in a moment if I could."

"You can't though."

"No, I can't. All I can say is I'm sorry, which I already have- twice- but will say again if it will make any difference at all."

Draco pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. "It really has hurt…a lot more than it should."

"I know…I could have ripped my tongue out a second after I said it." Harry remained standing, glasses still off, watching him.

"You really thought *I* would say that to you…even knowing that I wanted you too? For fuck's sakes, it couldn't have been any plainer."

Harry sighed. "Hermione calls it anticipatory retaliation; say something hurtful first before it can get said to you. She thinks that's your primary method of communication and that you aren't really as nasty as you seem, just insecure."

"Granger thinks I'M insecure?" Goddamn Muggleborn.

"Basically. And she says it sucks to be wrong, which is why she never is."

Before he could stop it, he laughed…a short, sharp laugh, but one nonetheless. "She's a fucking know it all."

"No kidding. You should try being her best friend."

"No thanks. You can have that dubious honor." He put his face in his hands and pushed them back through his hair, thinking…then felt Harry's fingers slide along his neck and upwards, stroking lightly at first, then harder. He wanted to jerk away and tell him to stop – but he couldn't. It felt too damn good.

"Draco." Harry's voice was soft, and he managed to look up. "I am so sorry…I think you are so much more than a random fuck. I think you could be the greatest one of my life and there would never be anyone to compare to you."

"You think flattering me will work for you?"

"No; but I'm hoping that the truth WILL."

He couldn't maintain his coldness any longer – Harry had managed to break him down - and he sighed. "I believe you."

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Thank you." He concentrated on stroking Draco's hair for another moment before asking. "Will you give me another chance?"

"Only if you keep doing what you're doing for the next day or so." Harry smiled. "Feels brilliant, doesn't it?"

"Mmmhmm." He nudged the chair next to him out and Harry sat down, never stopping his ministrations. "Gonna tell me what you're making?"

"Doesn't matter now." Draco's voice was muffled, as his face was now resting in his arms.

"Why? Was it a love potion or something like that?" He snickered at the thought, but stopped short when Draco answered. "Something like that."

"Seriously?"

A nod of affirmation. "For who?"

"Guess."

"Me?" His voice was squeaky, and he coughed to lower it. "For me?"

"Yes. Smell it." Harry gave him a glance but it was lost on Draco, who hadn't bothered to look up. He moved to lean over to cautiously sniff at the cauldron.

"This had better not fucking explode on me, Malfoy." He sniffed and is rewarded with the smell of peppermint and chocolate…a combination that he can never resist. "Mmmm."

"Yeah, mmm…I can't stand peppermint, but you love it. Combined with chocolate, I figured it was pretty sure fire to find its way into your mouth. Then all I had to do was make sure I was in your path when it kicked in."

Harry sat back and looked at the other boy, whose head was still buried in his arms. He reached over and tugged Draco's arm away and made him look up. "I appreciate the whole taste combination thing…and I'm shocked you would even know that…but…" He stopped and sighed.

"But what?"

"You've never needed to do anything special to get me. All you ever had to do is ask. Yet you go to these unreal lengths to do what you could have done so simply…just by doing this." He straightened up and pulled Draco's tie off, then his own, and then looped green one around his neck and assumed his haughtiest expression.

"Oi, Potter! Get over here!" He slipped the tie off and replaced it with his own and scowled suspiciously. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?"

Again with the green. "You, Potter. I want you bad. Room of Requirement, 6pm."

Back to scarlet, and a pause. "Uhm…can we make it half five?"

He gave up switching and simply placed the green on top. "Jesus Christ, yes, fine, half five. Wear something that comes off in a hurry."

And finally scarlet and gold again. "I thought you'd never fucking ask, you git."

Draco had been smirking throughout this display and finally laughed aloud. "That's all it would have taken, huh?"

"Yes." Harry's face had grown serious. "That's it."

"**Now** you bloody tell me."

"Uhm, better late than never?" Harry took Draco's tie off and slipped it back over the blonde's head, still holding on to both ends…the better to pull the other boy forward and kiss him – which he did. For a while.

A long while.

The cauldron ingredients boiled down to nothing and became dust while they explored each other's mouths and found a good many of the ways you could kiss someone…then decided to save the rest of the ways for tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after THAT.

Finally, they broke away, both flushed and with swollen lips that advertised exactly what they'd been doing…there may have even been a few bite marks on various patches of exposed flesh. "Its half five," whispered Harry into Draco's ear.

"So it is…are you wearing something that can come off in a hurry?"

"You'd be surprised how fast I can get naked."

"I'm counting on it." Draco paused; he had to ask. "Is this gonna be more than a random fuck?"

"What do you think?"

"With you, I'm never sure so I figured it was better to ask."

Harry took his hand and began to pull him out of the classroom, not saying anything. Draco resisted and made him stop. "Well, Potter? Am I?"

"Ask me again in about 15 minutes."

Inside Harry's erstwhile broom cupboard, Draco began to disrobe, but was stopped by the other who said "Let me do it." So he did.

It took quite a while to get naked, as it turned out; the clothes would have come off quickly, but Harry chose to take his time, starting at the neck and moving downwards, his mouth, tongue and hands all working in tandem; the tongue trailing down his neck and chest, the wet trail being kissed dry, the hard bites being soothed, in turn by the tongue. He was stroked, tasted, nipped and licked until despite himself, he had to stop watching and concentrate on the sensations prickling his every nerve ending.

Malfoy was vocal, Harry noted with a small smile. He would have bet he was the silent type. Wrong again…but he didn't much care. He was too busy indulging his wettest wanking fantasies and finally, there was only one part left. He pulled Draco over to the edge of the bed and lay back, readying himself, watching as the other boy gripped the bedpost and tried to get his knees to stop shaking. Harry propped his head on his folded arm and stroked himself languidly until Draco got himself under control and looked down at him, just in time to see three well oiled fingers disappear into the other boy. Despite himself, he laughed. "Three?"

"You're a big boy. I want to be ready."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm hoping it will get me where we both want to go, yeah…but it's also the truth."

Draco took a moment to appreciate the sight that had starred rather prominently in his OWN wanking fantasies before kneeling between Harry's legs and wrapping his hand around him, feeling the texture of the skin and how it pulsed in his palm. He squeezed gently and watched Harry swallow and bite down on his lip, then bent down to lick at the tip – the resulting moan made him, in turn, swallow. He gently eased under Harry's right leg, sliding that up over his shoulder, and pinned Harry's left leg with his own. He clamped his hand around Harry's wrist and pulled it away, freeing the fingers and leaving him open and waiting. He looked down at the boy beneath him and smiled. "I'd ask if you were scared, but I know what you'd say."

Harry grinned back at him. "And you'd be right."

Draco paused a moment, savoring, before whispering "Ready?"

"Mmmhmm."

Draco reached for a pillow and slipped it under Harry, the better to be able to lean down and do his own kissing and licking…then he gently nudged the opening, watching Harry to see what he wanted. Harry moved his hand out from under his head and used it to pull Draco's head down so he could whisper against his lips "Slam me _**hard**_…I won't break."

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, then felt himself being kissed, and seriously so – it held for a long moment, during which Draco slid into him as far as he could go, burying himself – then pulled out partway, the better to push in again, hard, like Harry wanted.

The resulting gasp caused him to position himself flat against Harry's leg so that he could bring all his weight to bear on the other boy, then concentrated on fucking him hard and rough, the way they both – as it turned out – liked it. As much as Draco wanted to close his eyes and just feel, he kept them open to watch Harry, who was flushed and panting, his lips swollen as much from being bitten as the brutal kisses they'd shared.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from that face, and when Harry came, his moan and shudder pushed him over the edge as well, the wave roaring through him and making him shake all over.

_Fuck him…you actually DID see stars. All Goyle's porn magazines weren't kidding. Huh._

Harry reached up and pulled him down on top of him, wrapping his arms around him and letting one hand run down his back, stroking the damp skin.

"See?" whispered Harry. "That's all you ever had to do to have me. Just ask."

Draco raised his head. "And to think I went to all that trouble to make your cauldron explode…"

"Yeah, but it got you to do something you enjoy that you wouldn't have known about otherwise. Which reminds me…"

He relayed Hermione's opinion of how he looked to Draco and he snickered. "She and Parkinson ought to get together and just set out decrees for male attractiveness for the whole school."

"Don't give her any ideas; she has enough of her own, trust me."

"You like it too."

"Damn straight."

"That ship, as they say, has sailed." Draco's imitation of Harry was spot on, and Harry laughed. "So are there gonna be any more potions mishaps?"

"I'm working on a permanent erection one as we speak."

"Somehow," replied Harry, reaching down, "I don't think that's gonna be a problem for us. For Nott, maybe…"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because Draco's lips were on his, crushing them, and making the mention of anyone else, ever, seem like total folly.

"What was that for," he managed to say when Draco let him go.

"Green goo."

38


End file.
